


The Boy Who died in the cupboard under the stairs

by MansiJain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5 year old harry potter, Gore, Horror, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Dudley Dursley, POV Harry Potter, POV Petunia Evans Dursley, POV Severus Snape, POV Sirius Black, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21632623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MansiJain/pseuds/MansiJain
Summary: Petunia's accidental magic turns the door of Harry's cupboard into a wall and 5 year old Harry dies inside and realises the next day when she wakes up in the future. Ten years hence, Harry's dead body is still rotting in the cupboard. Voldemort is terrorising muggle and wizarding Britain. POV Petunia, POV Dudley, POV Harry, POV Draco, POV Severus
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Petunia Evans Dursley/Vernon Dursley, Sirius Black/Severus Snape
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	1. In the Future

**_ Chapter-1 _ **

**_ In the Future _ **

Soft sunlight was streaming through the windows when Petunia woke. It was warm today. Slowly, she opened her eyes and yawned, placing her palm on her mouth. The other side of the bed was empty. It surprised her because it was Saturday and so Vernon should be sleeping right now. He slept in on Saturdays and anyways he woke Petunia up for breakfast. She sat up and rubbed her eyes.

She didn't know why it felt that she had woken up after weeks of sleeping when she had slept late yesterday night. That useless boy had ruined everything. Why Lily and that bastard of a husband of hers had to go into a magical coma and why Dumbledore had to leave their freak of a son on her doorstep was beyond her. She hated their world. She hated Lily and she had told her that she did not want to have any kind of contact with her.

Vernon's friends came over on Friday nights and so Petunia had cooked several things and she had entrusted one small task to that boy. He had to make chocolate pudding. But, he couldn't do it and he didn't tell her until much later that he hadn't done it. The five-year-old freak was a waste of space and she had - she had just been so angry that she had lost her calm and commanded him to go and sit inside his cupboard and stay there for the rest of his days and die, if possible. She had been so angry that she had slammed the door shut and then they had ordered the dessert.

A knock on the door brought her back from her musings and for the first time, she realised that she wasn't in her bedroom. She looked around. There was a wardrobe but it was black instead of brown and slightly larger too. There was a mirror and it did not have the crack that her mirror had. Even the windows were larger than her windows.

"Enter," she muttered and the door opened and what she saw left her speechless. There, on her doorstep was Dudley - a much slimmer, grown-up version of Dudley. His cheeks were sunken and there were dark circles under his eyes. How could her son have aged ten years in one night?

She stared at him and kept on staring. His face was quite blank which was strange in itself. He was so still. Her five-year-old son was quite expressive and playful. Who was this boy? Where was she?

"Dad wants breakfast," Dudley said. His voice was deep and his tone was bland. It was impossible to judge what he was thinking. Slowly, other things started registering her mind. There was a smell in the room - not very strong but there. She looked around and searched for the calendar and then gasped when she saw that it was 24th August 2029. It had been 23rd August 2019 when she had slept. What was happening?

Her heart started racing. How could she have time travelled. What was this?

"Dad wants breakfast," Dudley repeated blankly.

Petunia turned her head towards him, "And you? Have you eaten?"

He didn't reply for a few moments - only looked silently at her before saying, "I'm not much hungry. I'll have a glass of milk."

Petunia nodded. _This smell - what is this smell?_ She wondered. Maybe, Maria hadn't come yet.

She got up and then remembered that Dudley should be in school. He should be fifteen and in high school.

"Aren't you going to school?" she asked.

He fell quiet again.

"What's wrong with you?" he said. He hadn't called her 'mom' yet and that didn't escape her notice. She breathed slowly. Something was wrong. She had such a strong feeling.

"What's this smell, Dudley?" she asked curiously, "Didn't Maria come to clean the house yesterday?"

This wasn't her room. Had they relocated? Why had they relocated? Why had that boy not made breakfast yet?

Dudley didn't stay anything. His eyes became hard. Petunia swallowed.

"Why haven't you woken that boy yet? Harry knows what Vernon eats in the morning," she asked quietly, grimacing. _The smell - it was so pungent. Why was it smelling so much?_

Something changed on Dudley's face then. His nostrils flared and his eyes widened and he breathed deeply. A bead of sweat trickled down his cheeks and he clenched his hands in tight fists.

She wondered why Vernon hadn't called her yet. Usually, by now, he would shout for breakfast. That man had no patience.

"If you're done, can you, please, come downstairs and provide breakfast to dad?" he asked. She stared. Who was this boy? This couldn't be her Dudley. This well-mannered, controlled boy couldn't be her son.

"Listen," she started, swallowing, "You will think that I'm mad but when I slept yesterday, it was 23rd August 2019 and you were five. It should be 24th August _2019_ today."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened his eyes. He thought she had gone mad. Even she, herself thought that she was mad. Of course, he would think so.

"If I didn't love dad and you so much, I would have left this house when I was five. I would have run away and lived Mr Dumbledore or hell, Mr Snape. Please do not remind me of that day," Dudley said and his voice was just so pained that Petunia fell silent.

"What is this smell?" She asked finally. He gaped at her and at first, he was just surprised but then anger replaced the surprise and he said in a voice that barely concealed his rage, "I just asked you not to remind me. Will you, kindly, refrain from talking about him?" and then he stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Petunia's head was starting to ache and the smell was not going. Ten years had passed in one night and Dudley didn't want to talk about that boy. Vernon hadn't shouted for her yet - not once. Everything was strange and unusual. She didn't move for a full ten minutes, testing, wondering when Vernon would finally lose his patience and shout for her or for Harry. She waited for things to become normal and for Dudley to come running inside her room, complaining about that boy, lying about how that boy had been stealing food.

Nothing of that sort happened. She got up and took a quick shower and opened her wardrobe. It was - everything seemed so old - as if she hadn't bought anything new for the past some years. She took out a green skirt and a light yellow shirt and got dressed. Then, she walked out of the room. The house - it was also different. She was on the ground floor of course and there were no stairs that went to the first floor. There was a dining room and a kitchen and a door that led to a sitting room and another door on the left side of the sitting room that led to another room - probably Dudley's. Her home had had the first floor too.

She stood at her doorway and looked around. There was another door. It was closed and it was between the door of the sitting room and the kitchen. She frowned. Was it another sitting room?

She turned to look at Vernon who was reading the newspaper quietly. He was wearing his pyjamas and a shirt and he looked old. His hair was white and his eyes were fixed on the newspaper as if he hadn't even noticed her yet. She knew better, though. His fingers were clutching the newspaper tightly. He knew about her presence. Dudley was sitting across him with a small glass of milk and a plate that had a very small piece of pancake. Petunia stared - it was close to what she gave to Harry for breakfast. Why would Dudley have so little? A plate of pancakes was kept on the table but no-one was having them.

Where was that boy, anyway? Why hadn't he woken up yet? Who made these pancakes?

Vernon was still not looking at her. In fact, he was trying hard not to look at her. Dudley was just frowning at his plate. He was lost in his own thoughts. The smell was so strong over here. It was so - so - it was of rotting flesh or maybe, rotten eggs. Her heart was not calming down and her head had started pounding now.

 _Where the hell was that boy?_ She couldn't breathe properly. It was like everything stank - the carpet, curtains, furniture and even her clothes.

She forced her legs to move and headed towards the small rectangular table and sat adjacent to Vernon so that she could look at bot Vernon and Dudley.

"Why are you not eating anything?" She asked because Vernon's plate was empty. Even his cup was empty. She picked up the kettle. It had tea.

"They just got ready. I just brought them over," Vernon said, finally looking at her. His eyes were bloodshot. She stared speechlessly at him. Vernon did not know how to cook.

"Dudley doesn't eat anyways. So, I was waiting for you," Vernon's tone was so blank that Petunia couldn't think of anything except that for the next few seconds. Something was not right. Something was very wrong.

She covered her nose. The smell - it was so strong here.

"Where is that boy?" She asked cautiously, "Why isn't he here? Why did you cook?"

Vernon gaped at her. A loud and sudden CLANG startled her and she turned her head to find Dudley glaring at her.

"Do you have any shame?" the boy asked, his brows furrowed and his eyes utterly, utterly disgusted.

"Where. Is. Harry?" she asked slowly, looking deep into her son's eyes.

But, it was Vernon who answered. Dudley looked much too furious and tired to say anything.

"Petunia," he said and she turned her face back towards him.

He continued, his voice and eyes disgusted, "He's dead. Today is his tenth death anniversary or have you forgotten, Petunia. I don't understand how you can when his dead body is still trapped inside that damned cupboard under the stairs. After all, you were the one who trapped him there."

TBC


	2. Tortured in the cupboard for 3 days

**_Chapter-2_ **

**_Tortured in the cupboard for 3 days_ **

Her mind became blank. She couldn't understand what Vernon was saying - oh, she understood the words but she was sure that she was misinterpreting their meaning because surely Dudley or Vernon had let that boy out as they usually did.

"I locked the door. I _did not_ turn it into a wall. I cannot do that. _I am not a freak_ ," she muttered calmly. Her voice was calm but a storm was brewing in her mind. She was not a - a - a freak. She couldn't turn doors into walls. This was some sort of nightmare and she just didn't know that she was sleeping.

"There was no door when I woke up. There was a wall and Harry was shouting - but _you were there_ when that happened. Why are you lying? If Harry was a freak, then so are you," Vernon hissed, "He was a wizard, not some freak." His nostrils were flaring and he was breathing heavily. But, he wasn't yelling as he usually did when he was angry. Petunia didn't say anything. She waited for this nightmare to end. Anytime now, she would wake up because this was not real.

"Harry _is_ a freak," she said when several minutes passed and nothing happened, "He's alive. WHERE ARE YOU BOY?" and jumped, startled when Dudley slammed his fist on the table.

"HE IS DEAD. STOP PRETENDING," Dudley shouted. Petunia stared at him.

"HE IS DEAD AND YOU KILLED HIM AND WE STOOD THEIR AS HE SUFFOCATED TO DEATH," Dudley continued shouting, his chest rising and falling and his eyes red and damp from unshed tears.

Petunia's head was pounding and she was suddenly feeling dizzy. Maybe, she was about to wake up but still, nothing happened. Her heartbeats accelerated. This couldn't be real.

"You hid it from me - from us - your ability to do magic," Vernon said sharply. He had lost a lot of weight and would look handsome if his face wasn't as pale and sick looking as Dudley's.

"I AM NOT A FREAK," Petunia shouted, her hands clenched into fists on her sides, "WILL SOMEONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHY IT'S STINKING SO MUCH HERE?

"BECAUSE," Vernon started shouting and then stopped and took a deep breath and continued in a low voice, "Because Harry's dead body is still rotting inside that bloody cupboard. Closing the bloody door to our old bloody house won't stop the smell from spreading."

Petunia couldn't breathe. She couldn't. She parted her lips and started inhaling and exhaling deeply. Very slowly, she turned her face to look at the door between the kitchen and the sitting room. She closed her eyes. They were lying. She wasn't a - wasn't a witch and she had wanted it so badly. She had even requested Dumbledore to make her a witch, not knowing that it was impossible for the man. Lily was the luckier one. She could do all sorts of magical things and Petunia had wanted magic so badly. She was just so - so normal - not magical or even beautiful enough to be considered interesting.

They had to be lying. Why were they -

"Why are you lying, Vernon?" Petunia asked her husband quietly. She knew that she sounded hurt and upset and on the verge of tears. Vernon knew that she had wanted to be a witch when she was a kid, "Why are you doing this to me? You know that I am not a witch. I am not Lily. Lily was a witch. How can you forget that? Harry is a wizard. I can't turn doors into walls. Harry is not dead. He's probably hiding somewhere. I locked him just yesterday night."

Vernon's jaw dropped and he stared at her before his lips twisted into an ugly grimace and he snapped at her, "Lily Potter _is_ a witch. Just because she's unconscious, that doesn't mean that she's dead. Harry is dead. You killed Harry. You killed your sister's child _ten years ago_ , not yesterday night and we watched it happen. You -"

"SHUT UP," Petunia screamed and stood up so suddenly that her chair fell back. She turned her face to look at Dudley but the boy wasn't here and then she suddenly realized that the smell had become stronger. It was unbearable now. She couldn't breathe and so she took deep breathes and covered her nose with her palm.

"Oh - oh no. Dudley," Dudley gasped, getting up, "I asked him not to go there again."

Petunia's eyes fell upon the door that was open now and the smell that was wafting inside - it was coming from there. She followed Vernon. Her legs didn't want to move. Something was rotting in there - in her old house. She was too terrified to think anything and only hoped that Vernon and Dudley were lying.

A few seconds later, she found herself inside her old house. It was abnormally cold in here and it was stinking unbearably. She was losing her hopes and starting to believe her husband and son. Her heart sank and a lump formed in her throat. She was not a murderer.

 _What you gave Harry was not a life._ A voice said inside her mind. The voice sounded eerily like Lily who was apparently alive. This was unbelievable. The sofa and table in the drawing-room were in disarray. So was the dining room. The chairs were half-broken as if someone had picked them up and thrown them on the floor. The smell grew stronger as she neared the cupboard. It was dark. The curtains were drawn and she felt that she had suddenly transformed her boring life into a horror movie. Vernon had disappeared. Petunia stopped walking and looked around. It was so silent and then from nowhere a bat flew over her head and settled over the fan. She stared at the creature.

A loud sound of the foot hitting wood startled her and she started walking towards the cupboard where Harry's corpse was supposed to be rotting for a decade. It almost felt like there were ghosts in the house. It was smelling so much. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to close her eyes. But, she did nothing of the sort. She only kept walking. She was not a witch and couldn't turn a cupboard into a wall. She couldn't because she wasn't magical and if being magical entailed becoming a murderer then she didn't want magic at all.

 _Harry wasn't really living. He was existing._ That voice said again. Petunia ignored it and finally - finally it came into view - it, being a wall. The cupboard wasn't there. It was like a wall had been built around it. There was no wood - only cement.

Somewhere in her mind, Petunia knew that she was on the verge of a breakdown. Dudley was crying, knelt on his knees, pounding the wall with his hands. His balled fists were sparkling and so were Vernon's hands. He was rubbing Dudley's back - whispering something, trying to calm him down. Tears were trickling down Vernon's cheeks. Petunia could hardly believe her eyes. Dudley hadn't shown the signs of being a wizard and Vernon was non-magical.

Dudley stopped pounding when he noticed her presence. She must have made some sound. His eyes were red-rimmed and so full of hatred that Petunia took a step back. Vernon didn't turn to face her at all. Petunia resumed walking and knelt down beside Dudley. She was drowning in the smell. Of course, it was coming from inside the wall.

"Harry," she whispered, surprised that her voice was soft. She had locked him inside just yesterday night. She had wanted to torture him - not kill him and as this thought crossed her mind, she realized that she was disgusted with herself. She was torturing just because he was Lily's son and had magic unlike her.

She knocked gently on the door because she still couldn't believe that Harry was dead. Maybe, he was sleeping and had urinated in his bed.

"Harry, open the door," she murmured, feeling suffocated.

"There is no door," Dudley whispered softly, "You killed him. You murdered him in cold blood. He suffocated to death. His screams echoed in this house as he died. Dad and I stood there and watched you pound on this wall as he moaned and screamed and begged to be let out."

Petunia breathed deeply and slowly, whispering, "Harry, say something."

"I was five but I remember his words very clearly. He promised to be good. He promised to obey you and not as- ask for extra food or water. He only wanted to be let out. He wanted the pain to end," Dudley stopped. His voice was shaking so much, "Was it too much for you to feed a five-year-old? He was your sis-" Dudley sniffed before continuing, "-sister's son. He was my cousin and you lied to me. He died believing that his cousin hated him enough to let him die. You said that he was freak and bad and evil and I trusted you since five-year-olds trust their parents."

"No, no. This is not true. This is not real. I want to go back. I didn't want him to die. I-"

"He kept screaming for three days. We would never know if died of dehydration, starvation or suffocation. How can you forget that? You didn't want him to live peacefully and you gave him a death worse than his life. I hope it was worth it. It _awakened_ your magic if what you said was true and you really didn't know that you are a witch."

"I was angry and hadn't meant it. I-" she said and stopped speaking when she felt fingers enclosed around her wrist. She looked up to find Vernon staring at her.

"Please, turn it back so that we can bury him properly," he said and Petunia didn't really understand why Vernon was so calm about this when he was obviously horrified and unhappy and pained.

Dudley placed both his hands on the wall and closed his eyes and his hands sparkled but nothing happened. Petunia could taste the smell now. She wanted to back in time and wondered if she should just sleep and then she would be back there.

She got up and turned to get out of this house. It seemed haunted. She started running because suddenly the house seemed like a maze and she couldn't find the door. It felt that hours had passed when she finally saw the door and then she ran to her bedroom and slipped inside the blanket. She closed her eyes and tried so hard to sleep. However, when she woke up and looked at the calendar, she found that she had still not gone back. She had slept for two hours. The smell was there - present and intolerable. Not knowing what to do, she decided to meet Dumbledore. He would certainly know what was happening.

She tried hard not to break down and wore a thigh-length jacket over her gown before walking out of the house. Vernon was sitting in the sitting room, watching T.V. and Dudley was reading a book, sitting on a chair, his elbows on the dining table. He was writing something in a notebook and was also doing some calculations. She didn't understand how Vernon and Dudley had gotten accustomed to the smell and she headed towards the door and then walked out.

Dumbledore would know what to do. He always did.

TBC


End file.
